Voices From The Room Next Door
by optimustaud
Summary: Stories from the residents of Umitsuki Apartments
1. Chiaki

This is the story of the residents of Umutsuki Apartments. I was originally going to post this as one long chapter, but I have decided to give each character their own chapter. I plan on covering all of Hei's neighbors. This story was really inspired by my own experiences of living in dorms and apartments over the years. And I really loved the small glimpses we see of these characters in the episode "Love Song Sung from a Trash Heap."

I own nothing

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><p>Chiaki Shinoda had grown up in an average middle class home, went to an average university, and entered PANDORA as an unremarkable mid-level researcher. The only extraordinary thing about her was that both of her parents had been murdered by a contractor.<p>

Her obsession with their deaths colored all other aspects of her life. She invested so much of her energy into pursuing the truth about their killer that she ignored the milestones and trials of her own life.

Then she had met Louie. She had caught him staring at her while he cleaned the cafeteria tables one evening. Their eyes had met briefly and she had turned away.

After that first encounter she started to see him around the campus more often. She wasn't sure if this was because she hadn't noticed him before or if he was stalking her. It didn't matter. She had no time to be concerned with the attentions of a handsome man. She had important work to do.

"You've been following me," It was not how she imagined she would start a conversation with the man. The words just slipped out one morning.

"Ah, so I've been caught," Louie said mildly, scratching the back of his head.

"We'll, is there a reason?" she demanded. "I'm getting a little tired of it."

"Ahhh, well . . ."

Chiaki frowned. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't report you?" PANDORA was an enclosed environment. Not many were able to handle the long periods of isolation. If this man was stalking her then her life might already be in danger.

The man still hadn't given her an answer. "Well then . . ." She turned and started to walk back down the hall.

"No, wait," Louie cried. His hand grabbed her shoulder as she passed. She froze, realizing just how incredibly stupid she had been to confront him on her own. She looked to her left and then to her right. There was no one in the hallway but the two of them.

"Let go of me!" She slapped his hand away and backpedaled. One foot knocked awkwardly against the other and she fell.

Louie reached out and caught her. He set her gently on her feet and stepped back. He looked contrite. "I am sorry Shinoda-san, I didn't mean to frighten you. I just wanted to tell you . . .that you're beautiful."

Chiaki went still. She wished she could hide the warm blush spreading across her cheeks. The line was incredibly cheesy and infantile. It was the kind of crap you would hear from some god awful rom com. She didn't believe for a minute that he was being sincere. Still, Louie and his icy blue eyes were on her mind long after she left him in that hallway.

She knew pursuing a relationship with Louie was a mistake. She knew he was lying to her and manipulating her. She knew she couldn't trust him. This was what she was thinking when he pressed her up against the wall and kissed her. The workday had ended; the halls were empty save for the occasional member of the security staff.

She had the presence of mind to send him off before they ended up sleeping together. She went into her room, sat on the bed and clutched a pillow to her chest. Her body was tingling where he had touched her and there was a pleasant heat gathering in the pit of her stomach. She bent her head to the pillow and started to cry. She knew that this tryst would end badly and she couldn't help herself. She was so lonely and Louie made her feel like she was something more than average.

And finally, Louie revealed the true reason he had been pursuing her since that day in the cafeteria. He needed information and she could get it for him.

"Don't worry," he said smiling, "I'll protect you." By the time Louie's month was up all the plans were in place. When her time came to leave she walked out of the facility with a hard drive full of top secret research.

A man named Jean met her as she got off the bus. "Louie sent me to look after you," he explained. "We think we are being watched. It's not safe here," he said as he pushed a large brown bag into her hands. "You need to lie low for awhile. Did you get it?"

"Yes," She reached to hand him the data.

"Not here," Jean snapped. "Hide it and we will pick it up when things cool down."

"But what am I supposed to do?" The weight of what she had done hit her. She had stolen from PANDORA for the sake of a man she barely knew. She had no idea what he wanted to do with this information. And now she was in too deep to back out. The deed was done.

"Louie left you instructions in the bag. We've set you up with a new job and a new place to live. We will come and find you when it's safe." Too overwhelmed to reply, Chiaki stared numbly as Jean disappeared down an alley way. She was on her own now.

Chiaki Shinoda became Ayame Haraguchi. Slowly the former PANDORA researcher fell into a new rhythm. She lived in a tiny one room apartment and earned her living entertaining lonely men at a place called Club Pinky.

Chiaki Shinoda had been sallow skinned and dull eyed. Her hair hung limply at her shoulders. She hid her body behind loose clothing and bulky lab coats. Ayame Haraguchi was bright eyed and bright cheeked. She laughed too loud and was unafraid to display her graceful feminine curves. She smiled when she looked in the mirror now, noting the little dimples on her cheeks.

She was in over her head, stuck waiting for a man she couldn't trust, but for the first time she felt like this life was hers. She felt free of the guilt and obligation that had tied her to her dead parents. One morning, she watched the sun rise from her futon. Her eyes roamed the tiny room she was living in, lingering on the bright red dress she wore to work. It wasn't as glamorous or respectable as PANDORA researcher, but she didn't care. Sitting with those men, talking with them, flirting with them was far more satisfying.

_I'm happy_ she thought for the first time in a long time.

She fell back asleep and woke later that afternoon. It was time to get ready for work.

She ran into the landlady as she walked out the door. The old woman was standing in the walkway with a young man she had never seen before.

"AH, Haraguchi-san, I'd like you to meet . . . " She looked expectantly at the young man standing next to her.

"It's Li Shengshun," he bowed as he introduced himself.

She returned the bow and went to work.


	2. Louis

I own nothing.

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><p>He was ten years old when he first visited the National Air and Space Museum in Washington D.C. His father had pointed towards the ceiling with his free hand and there suspended from the ceiling with sturdy cables was 'The Spirit of St. Louis.' For the first time he heard the story of Raymond Orteig's famous bet and the daring of a young airmail pilot named Charles Lindberg.<p>

His father was so entranced by his own recitation that he never noticed when his son lost interest in the history lesson and wondered out of the museum. Louis sat in the yard and waited for his father to notice he was missing.

A horrible sensation of betrayal filled his young heart. His name already belonged to something else. He felt like an imposter. How was he supposed to live up to the expectations his Father had placed on him?

For the next three years he tried desperately to sculpt himself into the man his father wanted him to be. He listened to the man recite the history of aeronautics from the first flight at Kitty Hawk to the amazing accomplishments of Chuck Yeager. Louis followed his lectures about the early days of the space race and the first man on the moon. He solemnly remembered the names Pioneer 4, Freedom 7, Friendship 7, and Mariner2. He avidly read about the Apollo missions and watched recordings of the first lunar landing. He tried, he really did. He built model air planes and watched "The Right Stuff." He went to air shows and sat through shuttle launches with his Father.

Still, it was hard to fake an interest on sunny summer days and Radiohead was coming out with a new album. One day Louis saw an old acoustic guitar in the window of the Salvation Army thrift store. His convinced his mother to buy it for him. He had to wait for his next week's allowance to replace the worn strings.

Then one day the stars disappeared. For Louis it was almost a relief, for his father it represented the death of all the dreams he had for his son. As the two of them drifted apart Louis dedicated more and more time to that battered acoustic guitar. He spent hours in his bedroom learning to translate the sounds he heard on the radio into finger patterns on a fret board. At sixteen to took a part time job at a White Castle and saved for his first electric guitar. He formed a band with some of his friends from school. He started dating a girl named Jenna with a sweet disposition and fantastic tits. His father stopped talking to him.

His father's disappointment and bitterness tainted everything that brought Louis joy. His friends were losers, he was wasting his time with his music, he should grow up and get serious about his future were the only things his father had to say to him anymore. Louis found that he missed those long conversations with his Father. And every so often he would look up at those fake stars and wonder if Voyager 1 was still making its lonely journey through the galaxy.

When his arguments with his father became too much Louis would get in his car and take a long drive down I-70. He was wonderfully alone with only the voices on the stereo for company and pounding sound of tires against asphalt. He would roll the windows down and let the wind comb through his stiffly gelled hair.

At his parents insistence he went to college. When he learned that his university sponsored a study abroad program he jumped at the chance to leave. A part of him still yearned for distant voyages through the depths of space, but if he couldn't have that then maybe seeing a bit more of this planet would be good enough.

Tokyo was everything he hoped it would be. He attended his classes and then stalked the streets, guitar slung casually over one shoulder. He would purposefully bump into complete strangers to start conversations with them. He laughed and talked as loud as he could and ignored the scandalized chatter criticizing his boisterous behavior.

Whenever he felt a little homesick he would walk to the Home Run House, order a bowl of ramen, and watch a few games. The owner was a friendly man who shared his habit of starting conversations with complete strangers for no reason in particular. His daughter was a shy, industrious girl who didn't completely approve of Louis, but never said an unkind word to him. On slow days the owner would sit with him and talk baseball.

One afternoon Louis walked in and saw a mountain of dirty ramen bowls stacked at his usual table. Seated behind those bowls was a skinny dark haired man. Louis watched with morbid fascination as the man polished off another bowl, added it to the stack of dirty dishes, and called for another helping.

The man was simply too strange for him to ignore. Louis approached him and watched as he polished off another bowl. "Good Afternoon," he greeted.

The man looked up from his food, his cheeks bloated like a bullfrog. "Good Afternoon." The words came out garbled as the man spoke through his food. Through those bloated features Louis was able to make out the features of his upstairs neighbor.

Louis reached out and touched one of the bowls. "Now, that is one impressive stack of dishes. All yours?"

His neighbor swallowed and smiled sheepishly. "I got hungry." The man's voice was soft and quiet, he had bits of noodle stuck to his face.

Louis decided right then that he liked this man. "I see that. You live in the apartment above me right? I don't think we've ever talked. My name is Louis Powell. What's yours?"

"Li Shengshun." The man's eyes traveled upwards as the man inspected his ridiculously spiked blonde hair.

Louis pulled back a chair and sat across from Li. "So Li, do you like baseball?"

Li shrugged. "I don't know much about it. I like the food here."

Louis grinned. This place was no different than a White Castle back home. He tried to imagine what this table would look like littered with an equivalent number of burger wrappers. "Now that is a shame. I think it's about time you learned."

Li's eyes widened innocently. Louis placed his order when the owner dropped off another bowl for Li. The man listened politely and thanked him when he had finished speaking. He rose from his seat and made to leave the ramen shop.

"You know, if you want we could head over to the batting cages? You could see for yourself what it's like."

The man blinked, a look of surprise crossed his face. He rubbed the back of his head and blushed a little. "Ahhh thank you, but I have to get to work. Maybe another time?"

"Yeah, sure thing. See ya around."

Louis was a bit disappointed, but it wasn't like he would never see Li again.


	3. Babu

This is the last of the easy chapters so it might be awhile before the next update. I am having some trouble writing Irene and Joshua for some reason.

I own nothing

Thanks everyone who took the time to review/follow/favorite

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><p>Babu was an avid people watcher. It was a hobby he had developed growing up in Dar es Salaam. The city was a beautifully chaotic mess of languages and ethnicities; Babu never failed to find someone new to observe on the days he went exploring.<p>

The first time he had come to Tokyo he had explored the streets with a cat's curiosity. He found that there was none of the diversity and energy of his home city. The people here were so . . .flat.

Babu realized that he was the one being watched and scrutinized. The blatant stares and whispers of the natives made him self-conscious. And while he understood Japanese perfectly well, he struggled speaking the language. He learned to keep silent and soon he stopped leaving his tiny room unless he absolutely had to.

Babu had long given up his hobby of people watching when he saw the strange Asian man who would live in room 201. The man was unremarkable in his rumpled blue jeans and bulky green coat. He had looked up at Babu from the street and bowed politely before moving away. Babu had thought nothing of it at the time.

That night there had been some sort of disturbance in the apartment next to his and the next day the police had come around the complex questioning the residents. Babu hadn't been home when the girl's room had been broken into and had no idea why the police had come until the next day.

He was roused from an afternoon nap by a furious pounding on his door. It was his neighbor, a petit woman with dark-skin and bright orange hair. She had hammered against his door with such force he was convinced he would find a sumo wrestler on the other side. She broke into a smile when she saw him. "Yo," She exclaimed, raising her hand in greeting. "We're all a little freaked out by the police visit so we're havin' a little party. Interested?"

Babu stood in the doorway, hand braced against the door post, and stared stupidly at her for a moment. It had been a long time since he had been invited to any kind of get together. He nodded silently.

"Cool," she grinned again. "First apartment once you get down the stairs. Door's open. Louis and Joshua are already there." She gestures across the walkway with an upturned thumb. "I'm gonna go see if the dude in 201 wants to join us."

Babu climbed down the rickety metal stairs and opened the door to her apartment. He stepped inside. Irene joined them a moment later, closing the door behind her. She shrugged, "Guess it's just us." She settled on the mat next to him and offered him a beer.

"So, I am Irene. The idiot with the guitar is Louis and the other dude is Joshua." She looked at him expectantly.

"Babu," he said softly, feeling a bit self-conscious of his thick accent.

"Cool name. I think I started seeing you around here about three or four months ago, yeah. Where are you from? What are you here for?"

"I am from Tanzania. I am here for work."

That night he sat silently amongst a group of strangers, alcohol burning its way through his gut. They joked and argued in a mixture of broken Japanese and fragments of their native languages. Irene did most of the talking that night. Babu listened attentively, content to watch as Louis flirted with the tiny woman.

The sun set. Joshua ordered enough pizza for twenty people. Babu had no memories of what happened after they ate. He woke the next morning, his long legs curled awkwardly between his torso and Irene's low table. His mouth was as dry as sand baking in the sun, his bladder was stretched uncomfortably tight, and his head felt like it was being split open by a jackhammer.

He moved carefully, maneuvering himself around the drunken bodies littering the room. He quietly opened the door and stepped out into the fresh morning air. The wizened landlady watched him with pinched eyes as he stumbled up the stairway and into his own apartment. He emptied his bladder and poured himself some water. Then he threw open his rear window and let the cool morning air wash over his face. The fresh air swept through his stuffy room.

He had to admit, their get together had been fun. It reminded him of the end of term parties he had attended while he was in college. Maybe he should write to some of his old classmates.

Babu turned his head and saw his new neighbor hanging laundry. The man smiled mildy with his eyes pinched shut, "Good morning." His voice was light.

Babu nodded and retreated back into his apartment. There was something wrong with the way that man smiled. His face had been as stiff as a plaster casting. The expression looked like it had been mastered over years of careful practice.

He bent over the sink to brush his teeth. Through the open window he heard the jingling of a bell. As he rinsed his mouth he heard the faint hum of a man speaking softly. Curious, he moved closer to his open window.

He could not make out the words that were being spoken. There was the sound of second voice, deeper than the first one that had spoken. He recognized the deeper of the two voices as his neighbors. Babu poked his head out the window.

His neighbor was sitting on his window sill facing him. He smiled blandly as he met Babu's eyes then reached out a hand to stroke the fur of a plump black cat that had climbed onto his window sill. The cat jumped a little at the man's touch, the little gold bell on his collar singing as the creature moved. The cat turned its head away and caught sight of Babu staring at them. The cat's ears flattened and the beast let out a little sigh. The creature inched back towards Babu's neighbor and started to purr as the man stroked the cat's fur.

Babu didn't think there was anything particularly odd about talking to a cat; what he found strange was the way the man's voice took on the breathy, gravelly tones he had heard in the voices of chain smokers. Babu cocked an eyebrow and retreated back into his tiny room.

Babu started leaving his rear window open. He listened carefully for the jingle of a bell and the quiet hum of two voices speaking. Sometimes he could catch the smell of frying food, or hear the rippling sound of cloth blowing in the breeze.

The only visitor he ever saw coming from the man's apartment was a scrawny girl who couldn't have been more then fifteen years old. She smiled at him as she passed him on the walkway, flicked two fingers against the brim of her baseball cap, and disappeared down the stairwell.


	4. Joshua

Joshua stepped out into the street and breathed in. For a moment he simply stood and stared, watching the throngs of people swarm through the streets. Finally, he had arrived in Akihabara.

Joshua was completely overwhelmed. He had dreamed of making this pilgrimage since he was a child and now that he was here he had no idea where to begin. He started to walk forward, his eyes drawn to the glossy advertisements suspended over the faces of the buildings. When his neck grew too stiff he lowered his gaze back to the street. There was a girl standing near a storefront.

He stared at her for a moment. She was beautiful; flawless pale skin, delicate bird-boned limbs, and heavy silver hair pulled away from the graceful, feminine curves of her face. From the way she dressed he wondered if she wasn't a Lolita.

Then she turned her face towards him. Her eyes were glassy and sightless. The expression on her face was even harder to describe; caught somewhere between vacancy and loneliness. She looked lost. Something shifted uncomfortably in Joshua's gut.

He took an unsteady step towards her. "Excuse me, miss?"

She tilted her face towards the sound of his voice. Her sightless eyes fixed on his face and she blinked. Joshua swallowed, thrown off by her reaction before continuing to speak. "Miss, are you all right? Are you lost?"

The girl blinked again. "Am I . . . all right?" Her voice was as fragile and airy as her appearance. There wasn't a hint of emotion in her words. Alarm bells were blaring in Joshua's head. Something about her response was not quite right. Maybe she was cosplaying and trying to keep in character.

The girl took a step, turning her whole body towards him. There was a small frown on her face, as if she was thinking about the question he had just asked. As she turned Joshua heard the sharp crinkle of stiff plastic. He looked down and saw that she was holding stack of Rose Morris doujinshi carefully placed in protective plastic covers. She pulled the bundle to her chest, her frown easing a little. "I am all right." She said decisively.

He could have walked away then, but he found his curiosity piqued. He wanted to know more about this strange girl. He looked down at the doujinshi she was clutching to her chest. "Oh wow, I've been looking for _Rose Morris_ doujinshi for a long time. Are these any good?" He regretted the question as soon as it left his mouth.

_Good one Josh, now she's gonna think you're a pervert. _ He liked _Rose Morris_ well enough, but it was not the kind of anime he would ever admit to watching, especially in front of a pretty girl.

She looked up at him. "These aren't mine," she said simply. Joshua almost slapped himself in the forehead, of course they weren't; she was blind. "But I do like _Rose Morris_." Her voice changed ever so slightly when she talked about the anime, there was something almost hopeful in her tone.

"Oh yeah? Do you have a favorite episode?"

The small, thoughtful frown returned to the girl's face. "I don't know."

Joshua laughed nervously. "Neither do I, Miss . . .ummm " The girl was watching him expectantly, waiting for him to finish the sentence. "Sorry, I didn't get your name," he said sheepishly.

"My name." She lowered her eyes for a second. "My name is Yin."

"That's a pretty name. Are you waiting for someone?"

"No. "

"Did someone come with you?"

"I came with Kiko."

"Do you know where Kiko is now?"

Yin never needed to answer. A moment later a loud yell rose over the din of the shopping center "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING YOU PERVERT?" Joshua was thrown back as a blur of pink and white pushed him back. There was a girl standing in front of Yin like an angry mastiff.

"Kiko," Yin greeted the other girl.

The pink haired dynamo turned back to Yin. "He wasn't trying to do anything weird was he? If he was, he's dead!" Before Yin could answer Kiko turned back to Joshua, "Who the hell are you and what do you think you're doing?"

Joshua stood there, mouth hanging open for a moment. "I'm . . .sorry."

"You better be, trying to take advantage of poor innocent girls," Kiko was working herself up into a rage that was impressive for her small size. She was starting to turn red from the sheer force of her impressive rant.

Joshua took a step back, worried that the girl might actually hit him. Then he remembered the doujinshi tucked beneath the blind girl's arm. "Yin and I were just talking about _Rose Morris_."

Kiko came to a complete stop, her thin arms still raised in a threatening manner. She cocked an eyebrow at him. She slowly eased away from him with that incredulous look still stamped on her face.

Joshua continued to talk. "Yin was telling me she didn't have a favorite episode. I really liked the arc with the ivory poachers. What about you, do you have a favorite episode?"

The crisis passed. It turned out that Kiko did have a favorite episode, several favorite episodes in fact. And she was more than happy to tell him all about each and every one of her favorites. Joshua learned too late that this girl was absolutely obsessed with _Rose Morris_, the kind of obsession that bordered on neuroticism. He wondered if it would have been less painful to have simply let her hit him.

Then something amazing happened. Yin yawned. The tiny girl tried to shield her face with her hands, but Kiko noticed immediately. She stopped in the middle of her complaints about the poor quality of the filler episodes in season two and turned back to the silver haired girl. "Are you okay Kirsi, are you getting tired?"

Yin nodded numbly. In fact, Joshua had not heard the girl speak or react in any sort of way since Kiko had taken over the conversation. She had been content to stand in the background and listen. "Sounds good, we can head back home," Kiko gritted her teeth, "Sorry about that, I didn't realize how late it was getting."

Kiko turned back to Joshua. "Looks like we've got to go. See ya later! Oh yeah, and you should really watch how you approach people. You're a really nice guy, but you give off this kind of creepy perv vibe."

Joshua smiled with relief, finally the conversation was over. "I'll keep that in mind. Take care you two."

Yin nodded and gave a little hum of assent as Kiko took the girl's free hand and lead her off. Joshua rubbed at his stiff knees as he watched them disappear into the crowd. At the very least, his first visit to Akihabara hadn't been dull. He would have to remember to be more careful of who he started conversations with the next time he visited.


	5. Irene

Rating change for this chapter. A bit more swearing than I originally wanted to put in this fic.

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><p>Irene was leaving for work the first time she saw Collarbones. He was standing in front of room 201 staring out over the courtyard. The stern, preoccupied look on his face was so stiff that she thought he looked a little ridiculous. <em>Who the hell does he think he is, friggin Mufasa?<em> She snorted.

The Lion King wannabe turned at crude sound of her nasal exclamation. She watched his protean features morph from King of the pride lands to Jeff Cohen circa 1985. It was the weirdest thing she had seen all day.

His smile was ineffably gentle and completely at odds with the dark expression that had been on his face not ten seconds earlier. Irene's 'creepy weirdo meter ' pegged out at eleven and she looked away, hoping he hadn't noticed her watching him.

"Good afternoon," he said cheerfully.

We'll it was probably in her best interest to not be rude to the creepy weirdo who knew where she lived. She gritted her teeth and turned back towards him. "Good afternoon." She watched as he turned, her eyes following the flesh and unbuttoned collar of his shirt. She examined the figure partially hidden beneath unflattering blue jeans and baggy white button down. Finally he disappeared back into his apartment. _Fine then, he is a sexy creepy weirdo._ _End of Discussion. Time to go to work._

Unfortunately, her night didn't get any better. The bar was packed, the patrons were raucous. It must have been payday somewhere. And honestly if one more man laid his paws on her, beer wouldn't be the only thing getting served.

She sighed. She would never make her tips if she hauled off and punched one of her customers. She excused herself and hid in the ladies room. Fixing her hair and reapplying her makeup were familiar chores, ones that calmed her. She couldn't afford to lose income because of her pride and her short temper. There were people back home that were depending on her.

She smiled as she looked in the mirror. "You are one sexy girl." Then she blew herself a kiss and walked back out. She could do this, she would make it through tonight and the next night and the night after that.

There was a new man at the bar when she returned. He watched her in much the same manner she had watched Collarbones earlier that day. If she had to pick one word to describe him it would be greasy. She had the impression that touching him would be like sticking her hand in a vat of cooking oil. _I bet he smells like sardines and rancid fat_, she thought distastefully. Oh well, hopefully he was a good tipper. She made a show of adjusting her top. The man smiled knowingly and beckoned her closer.

In fact he smelled of cigar smoke and the sharp tang of metal. It reminded her a little of her Father. She was surprised when all he asked for was bourbon.

He sat at the bar; downing shots and saying nothing. As the night wore on she watched him for the first telltale signs of inebriation. "Hey man, don't you think you've had enough?" she said finally.

He looked up from his drink (beer this time) and frowned. His eyes were clear and his hands were steady as he defiantly lifted the glass to his lips. "Don't worry sweetheart. I drink and drink and never get drunk. Call it my special ability." His smirk was bitter.

"Then what are you doing in a bar by yourself?" she asked pointedly.

"Doesn't mean I can't try. And anyway, the view is pretty nice." His eyes followed the gentle curve of her chest.

The action was not flirtatious, nor was it meant to be. This was the action of a man who wanted to be left alone with his alcohol. Irene threw her head back and laughed. She laughed so hard she started to snort in harsh, crude bursts.

The man snorted in turn and smiled bitterly. "Was it that obvious."

"Pathetic," she agreed between snorts.

"Guess that's what I get for trying to talk to a pretty girl."

"Seriously though, who do you think you were fooling?"

"Who knows?" He took another long drink, his fingers twitched against the empty glass. "I just got this new coworker. A real pain in the ass."

"Is that why you came here tonight? Because of the new guy?"

"I guess so."

Irene hummed disapprovingly and poured him another beer. His sounded almost confused when he talked about the new guy. We'll it wasn't really any of her business. She let the conversation die.

It was five AM when Irene finally made it home. She was stiff, sore, and badly in need of a beer. And that greasy old man hadn't bothered to leave her a tip. _From now on, he will be known as Tightwad,_ she thought darkly.

She sighed contentedly as she pushed open the door to her tiny room and stepped inside. It was tiny, it smelled a bit moldly, and the floorboards creaked unevenly with every step she took; but this place was hers. Here she answered to no one and shared with no one. Here she made all the decisions and set all the rules. This was her domain and she was a Queen.

She had just rolled out her futon, almost salivating in her need for sleep when there was a muffled thump on the wall that connected to Dumbass's apparment. Irene paused for a moment, shrugged, and went back to preparing for bed. The thumping noise came again. She grumbled for a moment and shouted, "What?"

" 'Rene, you up? I need your help."

"Go screw yourself Louis." All she wanted was sleep, was it really so much to ask for. And what kind of moron asks 'are you awake' if you already answered?

"Come on Irene, its important."

'Important' for Dumbass could mean any number of things from 'help I've been hit by a car' to 'check out this awesome new band I've discovered.' Irene sighed. She had pegged him as a helpless whiner five minutes into their first conversation and so far he had lived up to her initial impression with damning consistency. She rubbed her fingers against her scalp and cursed herself for being a soft touch. A moment later she was furiously pounding on her neighbor's door.

Dumbass timidly poked his head out, he had the dewey eyed betrayed look of a lost kitten. "Are you mad?" he asked, sounding almost insulted. "I thought you might want to join us." He pushed the door open the rest of the way. Nerdboy waved to her from the other side of the door way.

Confusion swept through her sleep deprived mind for a moment; she was still angry that he had disturbed her for something ridiculous, but also pleased that he had thought to invite her over. It wouldn't hurt to stay for one beer. But first . . . She slugged his forearm with all her strength, "Jackass," she murmured fondly. She didn't feel a shred of guilt at the bruise she left on his arm.


	6. Misuzu

Misuzu collected people the way some old women collected cats. Even after some forty years of marriage she still considered Toshiro to be the Ashera of her collection (she wouldn't have kept him around for so long otherwise.) MIsuzu was certain that she was a creature of fire and that meant that Toshiro was without a doubt a creature of earth. She felt this most keenly on warm summer evenings when she would sit on her porch watching her man kneeling in soft soil with a trowel in his hand. She would take her kiseru with her and blow smoke rings at him as he worked. He would smile at her indulgently and ask if she had heard from Toshiyuki.

On days when Louis was out she would listen for the voices creeping through the paper thin walls to join her in the garden. She could hear Joshua's heavy footsteps coming down the stairs and Irene's amused snorts when Louis had done something particularly stupid. She would lean her back against the sturdy walls of her home and fall asleep to the noises of her tenants and the steady scraping of her husband's trowel.

It is a fact that fire needs fuel and while Toshiro was the dearest of her heart she could never survive on just his influence alone. She would look at her hands sometimes, gnarled like tree bark and fingernails yellowing with age. She could accept the failings of an aging body, but she would never ever allow the decay of her flesh to affect her mind (or her soul). She would stave off the slow suffocation of age until the day her body finally failed her. She took pains to surround herself with younger, brighter flames so she could borrow just a little bit of their light. And this year she was especially pleased with the odd collection of youngsters who had settled at Umitsuki Apartments.

Like every group of residents who had passed through her tiny apartment complex Misuzu took the time to learn each one of their habits and quirks. She knew that Miss Haraguchi loved the color red and that Babu kept his windows open every day no matter what the weather may be; she knew Louis was lonely, that Irene would give everything she had to someone else if she wasn't reined in. She knew Li was a sweet young man and took a certain amount of sadistic pleasure in watching him fumble awkwardly through every day social interactions. (Misuzu had nearly laughed herself sick watching Li pass around kiritanpo. And really, who did he think he was fooling? That boy ate enough to feed a battalion.)

To Misuzu there was no greater affirmation of life than eating. She liked those rare days when she could lure her tenants into her dining room for a meal. She loved to cook, but cooking for only two people was tiresome. It was far more entertaining to wip up a buffet for a room full of hungry alcoholics. She would listen to the sounds of stilted Japanese and chopstick tapping against her porcelain bowls, waiting for the perfect moment to goad one of her guests into an argument. She had to admit, that even after all these years, there were few things she enjoyed more than a good shouting match. Her voice might be strained with age, but the sheer weight of her experience could overwhelm any of these youngsters.

There were days when the playful jibing of her tenants reminded her of Toshiyuki. She had loved him from the first minute she had laid eyes on him; from the tips of ten tiny toes to the point of his oddly misshapen head she had loved every inch of him. (In retrospect she had wondered how much of the initial euphoria had been due to the pain meds, he had been a very big boy after all.) She had watched over him as he grew into a man, knowing that each day that passed was taking him farther and farther away from her.

Eventually Toshiyuki had moved out, married, and started a family of his own. He called once a month if he remembered. And as much as she yelled and argued and screeched she knew that was how things worked. Children grew up, started lives of their own, and drifted away from their parents. It had been the same with her parents and it would be the same with her grandchildren.

Misuzu could remember when the stars disappeared. To be honest she had barely paid any attention to it at the time. The phenomena was nothing more than a curiosity. It had very little to do with the day to day management of an old apartment complex; Mr. Taylor's rent was overdue, the toilet in room 103 was leaking again, and she was fairly certain that Ms. Kim was keeping a cat in her room. When the new stars began to appear and she wondered what all the fuss had been about in the first place.

It was Toshiro who reminded her of what she had lost when the stars disappeared. At the time Misuzu was shocked that he had remembered something that she had completely wiped from her mind. Toshiyuki had seen the announcement of the Giacobinid meteor shower on the news and had pestered her about it for days afterwards. So they bundled the boy into their car and drove out of the city. Toshiyuki started snoring about a half hour after they had started driving (of course he had fallen asleep, the little brat didn't appreciate a thing they did for him.) That night she sat quietly in the front seat of their car, her fingers twined with Toshiro's as they gazed skyward, neither of them saying a word.

They waited for hours for meteors that never came. Misuzu had complained about the wasted trip all the way back to Tokyo. Toshiro only laughed and squeezed her fingers tighter.

Now she watched her husband working and wondered just what else she had forgotten, what else had she lost during the long years of her life. Then she berated herself for being a weepy, sentimental old woman. Whatever she forgot Toshiro would remember, whatever she lost Toshiro would find. That was the way it had always been.

"It's a lovely evening," Toshiro was speaking softly, brushing dirt from his pants.

Misuzu tapped some ash from her kiseru and thought for a moment. "Yeah, it is." She listened to the crack of her husband's knees as he sat next to her.

"I was thinking. . . if the real stars come back, I would like to see them."

"I would too," was all Misuzu said, just this once not feeling the need to argue.

On the night the real stars were supposed to reappear all of Tokyo turned out the lights and looked skywards. Misuzu and Toshiro stood together in their little garden staring into the darkness just as they had 30 years ago. Slowly Misuzu pressed her palm against Toshiro's palm and wrapped her fingers around his.

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><p>I may turn this into a dumping ground for stories about the neighbors if I get more ideas later on, but this is all I had planned to write. Thanks everyone who R+R.<p>

Yes Toshiro and Toshiyuki are the real names of Misuzu's husband and son. The Giacobinid meteor shower was brought up in episode 23. I believe it is the only time Toshiro actually speaks during the series.


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